


Acrobats and Underwear

by HappyDamijon



Category: Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Accidental Sex, Acrobatics, Damijon - Freeform, Jondami, Kinda?, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Pranks, Robin - Freeform, Superboy - Freeform, Training, Underwear, blowjob, kinda???, pulling pants down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 10:06:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16116185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyDamijon/pseuds/HappyDamijon
Summary: “And you’re playing the game,” Damian says, on top of him, his eyes hooded. Jon thinks of trying to stand, but Damian doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere, and either way if Jon moves, he’s going to end up feeling something against his crotch and he doesn’t need that right now. Not with Damian already on top of him. “That innocent act doesn’t work on me, Jon. You really think I don’t know that you’re fast enough to stop me? To make sure I don’t see anything you don’t want me to?” Jon stays frozen, the flush of embarrassment enough to keep him quiet. “The real question is, why are you letting me do it?”Or:Damian using acrobats to pull Jon’s pants down during training





	Acrobats and Underwear

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t mark this as underage because I didn’t write it having them in mind as underage, but you can basically imagine them any age you want I guess (I always go for late teens/early twenties). 
> 
> Jon will always be embarrassingly innocent. 
> 
> Unless I make him not innocent. One day. 
> 
> Anyhow, I needed a little blurb to get myself back on track and I ended up getting inspired by some convo’s/ppl on discord ahaaaa. Everything feels like it’s been hectic recently, but it’s starting to cool down so hopefully I’ll start writing another chapter for my other story very soon! For now, there’s this ;)

 Nothing is ever an accident when it comes to Damian. It’s not that Damian ever gave an excuse, or tried to play it off as if it was an unfortunate mishap. In fact, Jon never spoke up about it after the first time it happened. No, the thing is, Jon can’t convince himself that Damian isn’t doing it on purpose—he’s okay with lying to himself but to a certain extent. Damian doesn’t _do_  mistakes, so that leads back to this: Why the hell does Damian keep pulling Jons pants down? 

 

The first time, Jon blushed so hard it covered his entire body. It happened in a split second: Damian was a good few feet ahead of him, then suddenly he was doing some sort of flip around him, and as he was passing Jon his hands somehow grabbed his sweats and _pulled_. Fortunately Jon had some normal grey briefs on. That, unfortunately, was the only _good_  thing about the situation.

 

“Surprisingly bland,” Damian had muttered, his eyes doing a quick once over. It only served to make Jon blush even harder. After the initial shock, he was quick to pull his sweats up, flustered and angry. For good reason!

 

“Damian!” He snapped, his hands in fists by his sides. “What was that for?”

 

“What was what for?”

 

Jon short circuited for a second, because it was quite _obvious_  what he was referring to, but then there was a slow back walk, a reminder of just how damn flexible Damian is, and Jon’s mouth went dry.

 

Then, he was punched in the gut.

 

“Never let your guard down.”

 

Damian had said it with a smirk, but that was alright, because Jon eventually got him back with a (light) thwack to his shoulder. Then it was Damian’s turn to glare and Jon’s turn to smirk smugly.

 

Which, fuck, is _beside_  the point because Damian kept _doing_  it.

 

It wasn’t every single time they trained together, in the comfort of the Batcave, but often enough for it to be a very, very obvious thing Damian was doing. Even the densest person wouldn’t be able to trick themselves into thinking it was an accident. And every single time it happened he was embarrassed because Damian would always have to comment about _something_ :

 

“The red compliments your skin tone.”

 

“Grey? Again?”

 

“White. How spontaneous of you.”

 

“Ah, stripes. Red and blue, predictably.”

 

“Your ass reminds me of a peach in that color.”

 

“Don’t ever wear that again. It’s atrocious.” (Which, of course, Jon proceeded to wear for a few more days before he got tired of washing it constantly. By then, however, he was tired of the ugly green too.)

 

He contemplated surprising Damian one of these days. He isn’t sure how to. He isn’t too keen on wearing a thong, though it’s mostly because that would require he _bought_  one and that...is definitely out of the picture (for the time being). That is. Until one fateful day.

 

He found them. The perfect briefs.

 

 _Boy Wonder_ , it said repeatedly along the elastic in yellow against green seams. The rest of the briefs were red, all around, with a big yellow R right in front of the crotch. Jon bought a set (Batman, Robin, and Nightwing) without hesitation. It’s not like he’s the only one who’s bought these.

 

However, as he’s putting them on and admiring them in the mirror, shirtless, he bites his thumb. Staring at the big _R_ , the black beneath it, accentuating the yellow letter. He turns to his side, his soft shaft tucked inside, barely sticking out, a tease in a way. He narrows his eyes. Would this be too weird? Would he be taking it a step too far?

 

What would Damian say? Would he be weirded out? Isn’t that what Jon wants? For Damian to finally stop?

 

It’s supposed to be a joke. Something funny. Hopefully Damian will laugh and then everything will turn back to normal.

 

Why is Jon so nervous?

 

He shakes himself off, grabbing a pair of sweats (they were always a lot smoother to pull down) and a t-shirt. He says goodbye to his parents, the feel of the underwear a constant reminder of what he’s wearing.

 

Once in the Batcave, Damian is doing his stretches barely acknowledging Jon. He joins Damian, doing some stretches and a quick warmup. Jon takes deep breaths to calm himself. The stretches don’t do much to stop himself from tensing. His mind riddled with questions.

 

What if Damian doesn’t pull his pants down today? What if Damian never does it again? Would Jon go about wearing these all the time? Will he ever tell Damian he owns these? What will Damian think? _Will_  Damian pull his pants down today? Does Jon want him to?

 

“—got that?”

 

Jon blinks, the last of Damian’s sentence reaching his ears. “Huh?”

 

Damian frowns, unamused. They stand, facing each other, both clearly thinking about opposite things.

 

“Monday you weren’t watching your left side. I should’ve caught that before, that’s on me. We should use this time to exercise the skill. Got it now?”

 

“Mhm.” Jon nods, his mind stuck entirely somewhere else. Damian doesn’t look like he’s in the mood for games, for pulling Jon’s pants down, and Jon has no idea why he’s a little disappointed in that. Well, he knows but...he’s stuck. He wants it, he doesn’t, he isn’t sure. He’s just _scared_. He doesn’t know if it’s too weird, but yet again, Damian’s the one pulling the pants down. Shouldn’t that make Damian the weirdo?

 

It could be some sort of tactic, Jon thinks, as he and Damian start sparring. A dominance thing—he isn’t sure. Damian _is_  different after all. He could be hazing Jon in a way, scaring him, letting him know he’s the boss. It does seem to come off that way a little, but Jon can’t exactly see it being like that. He isn’t entirely sure how he see’s it, he doesn’t know WHY Damian does it, but he’s almost positive it isn’t a ‘my dick is bigger than yours’ thing. Right?

 

Jon’s always amazed with how well Damian can keep up with him. Jon’s a superhuman, he’s got speed, flight, more on his side—it’s amazing how Damian is able to keep Jon on his toes, keep him engaged, alert.

 

Damian catches him at the back of his knee, Jon at one point pulls on his hair, which makes Damian growl. The sparring slowly gets more intense, their breathing labored, bodies a little sweaty.

 

There are a few more jabs here and there, a few unnecessary acrobatic tricks on Damian’s part, until there’s a familiar jump and flip. That. That right there. Jon freezes up, confused, scared, because is Damian going to—

 

His skin is hot, flushed, and it’s cold when his bare legs are exposed. On the flip side, it feels good against his heated skin, and with that small pleasure he forgets for a few seconds why he was so nervous in the first place.

 

Except Damian stills, his eyes glued down, body stuck on a crouch.

 

Jon can’t read his expression, purposefully blank. He looks down, feeling ridiculous in his Robin briefs, and fakes a chuckle.

 

“Whoops,” He says, his voice cracking. He shrugs, trying a smile. “You caught me.”

 

Damian doesn’t say anything. Seconds start to tick by. Silence.

 

Jon slowly starts to frown.

 

“What?” He asks, feeling just a bit annoyed by Damian’s silence. “No comment? I bought these for twenty five dollars, you need to say _something_.”

 

“Those costed you twenty five?”

 

Jon furrows his brows, crossing his arms. He thinks maybe he should pull his pants up, but he doesn’t, unreasonably offended. This was just disappointingly anticlimactic. Not that he’d rather have Damian _mad_  at him.

 

“No,” he says, rubbing his bicep. “I bought a set. Batman, Nightwing. This. You really aren’t going to say anything?”

 

“A bit expensive,” Damian says, straightening up. “I certainly wouldn’t have bothered. Embarrassing, to say the least, seeing as those weren’t even a gag gift.”

 

“Hey,” Jon says, glaring, and suddenly Damian jumps and kicks, aiming for Jon’s chest. Jon catches his leg, his hand gripping Damian’s ankle, keeping him in place. Damian doesn’t struggle, but his eyes narrow, incredibly dark and intimidating. “I did this—just _stop_  pulling my pants down, alright? It’s weird and embarrassing.”

 

At that, Damian’s expression eases up a bit, amused. “So that’s what this is about. Figures. They look new, compared to your other ones. First time wearing them, perhaps? They don’t even look washed yet. Did you buy them yesterday? Today?”

 

Jon let’s go, lightly throwing Damian’s ankle down, but Damian recovers quickly enough, his stance back to being defensive.

 

“You _knew_  I’d do something like this.” Jon says, his face flushing. He grits his teeth, annoyed with himself, but most of all Damian. “You—you jerk! What is _point_  of all this?”

 

“Never let your guard down,” Damian says, just as he’s sticking a leg in between Jon’s, grabbing, pulling, twisting, and with Jon’s pants down to his ankles, he falls, his back hitting the ground hard.

 

“And you’re playing the game,” Damian says, on top of him, his eyes hooded. Jon thinks of trying to stand, but Damian doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere, and either way if Jon moves, he’s going to end up feeling something against his crotch and he doesn’t need that right now. Not with Damian already on top of him. “That innocent act doesn’t work on me, Jon. You really think I don’t know that you’re fast enough to stop me? To make sure I don’t _see_  anything you don’t want me to?” Jon stays frozen, the flush of embarrassment enough to keep him quiet. “The real question is, why are you _letting_  me do it?”

 

Damian waits for an answer. Jon can’t give him one. Or maybe he can, he just doesn’t want to. What _can_  he say?

 

“Get off me,” Jon mumbles. He wants to leave. He wants to go home and wallow in self pity. He never counted on Damian _exposing_  him like this, but what else should he have imagined? This is _Damian_. Smart, strong, fast. Of course he’d still find Jon pathetic like this, playing dumb, trying to be the victim of a game he _let_  continue.

 

“Answer.”

 

Jon grits his teeth. He can easily throw Damian off, lift him and put him aside, but Damian already knows that—it’s another fucking example of just how _little_  power Jon has when it comes to Damian.

 

“I don’t know,” he says, rolling his eyes, a puff of air escaping his lips. He’s about to say something else, retorting, hopefully to redeem himself when—

 

When there’s something pressing against his crotch, rubbing, just the right amount of pressure to get his gut to stir. He jumps, surprised, gasping lightly. That’s Damian’s hand, on him, rubbing him, his eyes on Jon’s face. 

 

“You don’t know?” Damian asks, his voice light, husky, his hand persistent and slow as he rubs along Jon’s hardening cock.

 

Jon whines for just a second, his breath catching, heart racing. His skin feels flushed, incredibly hot. He’s hard now, just like that, quivering under Damian’s hand. ”D-Damian...”

 

“Sh,” Damian says softly, his hand creeping down further to grip his balls, Jon moaning lightly in surprise. His mouth is too dry, and he swallows, the act almost hurting his throat.

 

Damian finally looks down, lifts himself up a bit to look at his hand on top of Jon’s underwear. Jon watches his own chest rise and fall, uncharacteristically fast. He watches Damian’s hand move, feels it too, the pressure so nice, yet not entirely what he wants anymore. He wants more. But he’s scared. He’s never done anything like this, and he never would have thought—it never crossed his mind that maybe Damian would—Damian would _ever_ —

 

Damian goes down his body, his face right in front of his cock. Damian’s hands are now gripping his thighs, keeping him there, as if Jon would ever think of running away _now_. He catches Jon’s eye, his breath fanning over his bulge, and Jon’s member twitches reflexively. He blushes in embarrassment, but Damian licks his lips, those delicious pink lips, and he kisses the head of Jon’s cock.

 

Jon bites his lip, pre-come dampening his briefs. He breathes harshly through his nose, the sound disgustingly ragged, and then Damian does it again, wrapping his lips around his head, further dampening the spot, his tongue swirling. Jon’s heart skips a beat, the pleasure sparking throughout his entire body, his toes curling, and he lets out a pathetic, “Ngh.”

 

Damian’s eyes are closed, his tongue flicking out to rub along Jon’s cock, teasing him, his hands rubbing lightly along Jon’s quivering thighs. The sensations are enough to pull another soft moan out of Jon, forcing him to close his eyes too, to focus on the feeling of being touched.

 

As Damian kisses and licks along the fabric, along his _cock_ , his hands slowly begin to creep underneath the briefs. He goes up and down, massaging, each time going up high and higher, fingers finding their way beneath his underwear, feeling the dampening, heated skin there. Jon’s cock twitches again in anticipation, until finally Damian moves Jon’s shirt half way up his chest, pulls the fabric down, and Jon’s cock is able to straighten up, half of it exposed.

 

Jon takes a breath of relief, trying to spread his legs wider, but his pants are still around his ankles. For a split second he thinks of just ripping them, but then he won’t have any clothes to leave in, and though his parents probably wouldn’t question it too much, he doesn’t want to go home in any of Damian’s attire. Yet.

 

The first lick along his head is hot, moist, and Jon cries out, his hand subconsciously finding its way to Damian’s hair. He grips, not too hard, and not controlling, but he follows Damian’s movements, his hips shallowly thrusting without his knowledge, looking for something, anything.

 

“You should come all over these,” Damian mumbles against him, his breath hot. Jon furrows his brows, lifting his head to look down at Damian. Another burst of pleasure catches him by surprise, the sight of Damian between his legs, near his _cock_ , his eyes hooded and lips now a shiny red. A damn sight, and Jon quickly forgets what Damian just said.

 

“Huh?”

 

“On these,” Damian mumbles, licking, sucking randomly. Jon quivers again, trying very hard to concentrate. “I’ll keep them. Save them for next time, shove them in your mouth as I fuck you.”

 

“Y-yeah?” Jon replies, now on his elbows, watching Damian’s every move. Damian nods, pulling his underwear further down, below his balls, sucking, playing with them, and Jon throws his head back, groaning.

 

“Or you can fuck me,” Damian says, his voice soft, spitting generously onto his hand. He grabs Jon’s cock, slowly jerking, his saliva slick. Jon almost closes his legs, the feeling fucking euphoric, only half paying attention to Damian’s words. “Force me down, spread me open. Or I can ride you—tie you up, forbid you from coming inside me. Make you fuck me for hours.” Damian flicks his wrist, hard around the tip, and another squirt of pre-come is forced out. Jon groans. “Fuck, you have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this.”

 

Damian jerks a few more times, his lips around the head of his cock, and Jon comes, without warning, all over the place. Damian’s mouth, face, hand. He gasps, sitting up, letting go of Damian’s hair.

 

“I’m—shoot, sorry—“

 

Damian kisses him, and Jon can taste himself, and it’s weird and possibly disgusting but he takes it, sucking on the tongue that creeps into his mouth. He tries to at least, and after a few seconds Damian is pulling away, a small smile on his face.

 

“So innocent,” he mumbles.

 

Something in Jon changes, almost offended, and he flips their position easily, kicking his shoes and pants off. Damian huffs, but he’s smirking, almost glowing.

 

“Planning on proving me wrong, Jonny boy?”

 

“I—“ he doesn’t know _how_ , is the thing, because he _is_  innocent.

 

“It’s alright,” Damian says, taking a hold of Jon’s hand. He guides it down, and then over his own bulge, and Jon swallows nervously. “You’ll catch up.”

 

“Shut up,” Jon mumbles, face flushing, as Damian moves his hand for him, rubbing him over those stupid pants. Damian always has to train with actual _clothes_  on and he’ll never fully understand why. He moves away then, pulling his shirt over his head. Damian does the same, and then he’s unbuttoning his pants, and a few seconds later they’re both naked, Damian distracting Jon with his kisses.

 

“You’re getting hard again,” Damian whispers against his lips, touching him, and Jon thrusts into his hand, gripping Damian’s hair, pulling. Damian moans and the sound goes straight to Jon’s cock. He pulls away, taking a shaky breath in, and he reaches for Damian’s dick.

 

“Wait,” Damian mumbles, squirming beneath him, and Jon gets off of him, confused. Damian stands, walking off somewhere. Jon watches in confusion. Then, he’s back with a small bottle, squirting the liquid into his hand.

 

“Ah—“

 

“Lube,” Damian answers quickly, wrapping a hand around himself. He sighs contently, slowly stroking himself. He sits by Jon, bringing him in closer with his other hand. “Come here.”

 

Jon’s feeling nervous still, though he’s already been through so much in just the last few minutes. He trusts Damian though, so he melts into the kiss, and as Damian starts to pull Jon down, Jon follows, on top of Damian again.

 

“Touch me,” Damian whispers, hands gripping the back of Jon’s neck. He does, his hand shaking as he takes Damian in hand. He’s slick, warm, pulsating against Jon’s palm. He slides his hand up, down, enthralled with the sight and feel of it all. Damian’s hips move along with him, Damian’s breath labored, and Jon knows he’s hard again for sure, his own cock leaking already.

 

Damian spreads his legs wide underneath him, the bottle of lube in his hand again.

 

“Here,” Damian mumbles, giving the bottle to Jon. “Slick your fingers up. I want to feel you inside me.” 

 

Jon drizzles his hand with the stuff, his fingers slippery, and then he stiffens. _What_  does Damian want him to do? Where does he want Jon’s fingers?

 

“Like this,” Damian says, leading his fingers down towards his ass. Jon swallows, hard, his heart racing again. He keeps himself from chanting oh God, biting his lip as his pointer finger circles around Damian’s exposed hole.

 

“Damian...” he says, nervous. Damian doesn’t exactly huff, but he isn’t all roses and butterflies either.

 

“Slide it in. I can take it.”

 

Jon doesn’t question it, and he pushes past the initial pressure. Not much happens, he just feels the warmth of Damian’s body, tight around him. Damian begins to breathe easily, calmly.

 

“Test it out,” Damian says. Jon does, moving around a bit, and then pulling the digit out, in, out. Damian nods. “Alright. Add another one.”

 

“You sure?”

 

This time Damian rolls his eyes. “Worry about yourself.”

 

“ _I am_ ,” Jon mumbles, glaring, his heart still racing as he adds another finger. Damian’s breath begins to hitch at that, as Jon experiments, testing, spreading his fingers wide, the resistance nothing compared to his strength.

 

“A-ah, okay, that’s—different,” Damian moans lightly, arching his back just the slightest. Jon’s mouth parts, his eyes taking everything in. “Continue,” Damian puffs out.

 

He adds a third, twisting his fingers, and Damian thrusts up, crying out, breathing harshly again. 

 

“I’m ready,” he says. “Hurry, ‘cause I won’t last long.”

 

“How—“

 

“You stick it _in_.”

 

“—are you so _loose_?”

 

They both glare at each other, their movements pausing. Jon’s the first to break, waiting for an answer.

 

“Well?”

 

Damian pulls him down to a kiss, distracting him, and Jon lets him. Weak, like always. Damian moves them, forcing Jon to sit up. Jon can hear the bottle moving again, squirting, and then his cock jumps when Damian touches it, his member wet and beet red. His breath stutters, Damian seating himself just above Jon’s lap. Damian reaches behind himself, gripping Jon’s cock, and he’s barely able to wobbly say, “ _D-damian_ ,” before Damian is inserting his cock, sliding down his shaft in an even pace. Jon throws his head back, the tight heat almost unbearable. He’s never felt this before, never had his cock inside something so...soft, silky, smooth. Tight. A moan is forced out of him when he bottoms out, shaking. He bites his lip, hard, hoping to God Damian stays still so he doesn’t come.

 

He thinks of how far they’ve gone. One minute they were just friends, partners, and the next they’re—they’re doing _this_. He’s liked Damian, he’s _hot_ , but he never would have thought that Damian would ever _consider_  him. Who _would_? Jon isn’t anywhere near as amazing as Damian. Damian, who’s on top of him, his face scrunched in concentration as he takes all of Jon in. Damian, who’s letting Jon _breach_  him.

 

Damian’s breath hitches, his hole tensing, and Jon’s cock twitches inside. He rolls his head back, biting his lip hard. He resists making anymore noise, for whatever reason feeling he needed to be _quiet_.

 

“Y-yeah,” Damian sighs out, his pace quickening as he begins to ride Jon. He moans, his hand gripping the nape of Jon’s neck.

 

Okay, Jon thinks, we’re really doing this.

 

He begins to occasionally thrust up into Damian as he’s sliding down and every time Damian moans a little louder. Eventually, once he realizes that maybe this isn’t too hard to get the hang of, he thrusts into Damian with more purpose. He won’t last long, he knows he’s already close but he wants to make it good for Damian. He thrusts faster, harder, their noises driving Jon closer and closer towards the edge. Damian’s voice starts to get higher, needier, and Jon forces Damian on his back, pushing his knees behind his head because he knows Damian’s damn flexible enough for it, and pounds into Damian’s stretched hole.

 

“A-ah,” Damian whines, his mouth slack and wide open. “F-faster.”

 

Jon’s so damn close but he obliges, going faster, his body going hot, his gut boiling with pleasure. His cock is ready to explode any minute now, he can _feel_  it, and he isn’t sure if he should be disappointed or not because it’s barely been a couple minutes. Should this last longer? He feels Damian should finish around the same time Jon does. Isn’t that fair?

 

Jon’s about to say it, to tell Damian to touch himself or that he’s almost done, when Damian’s back arches as far as it can, his face tilted towards his foot, and he comes. He wraps tight around Jon moaning and gasping. Jon thrusts a few more times into the tightness of it, his voice pitching, and he shudders, finishing off inside his partner.

 

He does a few more lazy thrusts, his cock still having a mind of its own before he finally pulls out. They both stay still trying to catch their breaths

 

Jon doesn’t know what to say.

 

“I like the underwear, by the way,” Damian says, still catching his breath. “I do own a pair of Superboy ones, so perhaps that makes us even.”

 

Jon bristles. Then he laughs, pulling Damian into a hug.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah sorry didn’t know how to end it. Whelp, hope someone liked it :) 
> 
> I’m planning on kinda making a series so if anybody got any suggestions...you can comment...or hit me up on tumblr: HappyDamijon
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
